


The Old Guard

by greygerbil



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 11:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14693673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: When Yakov and Nikolai accompany Yuri and Otabek to the dangerous Wildwoods, they simply want to scout out the place where the young squires ran into a wyrm the other day. Soon enough it becomes clear that the two old warriors will have to prove their mettle once more.





	The Old Guard

**Author's Note:**

> Written for YoI Royalty Week, Day 6: Mentors, Advisors, and Servants: From close friends and confidantes to prying eyes and institutional barriers, these people can facilitate great change, or pose deadly challenges.

“Where are you going?”

Yakov pulled the strap of the saddle tighter and closed the buckle. He didn’t need to stop working on his horse to know who had walked up behind him. He’d heard Nikolai’s voice for nearly fifty years now, and though it was slower and rougher these days, he could have summoned it into his thoughts any moment of the day.

“I’m going to look around for a monster that sent your grandson running back to the city in a panic,” Yakov said. “Or finds its trails, at least. Anything to tell me how many knights to send to take care of it.”

“The wyrm in the Wildwoods Yuri and Otabek saw last night? He told me of that.”

“Did _you_ tell him to keep away from the Wildwoods?” Yakov gave back, surly.

“I thought was your job, Mylord.”

The way Nikolai said ‘Mylord’ still sounded like he was making a joke to Yakov after all this time. It wasn’t that Nikolai was insolent, precisely, but people who’d only met him now would never guess where Yuri got so much of his personality from. That fair-haired, grinning, eighteen-year-old, wearing no boots but armed with a pitchfork, who had fought alongside just-knighted Yakov to drive the rusalki back into the moors from which they’d come, was still stuck in Nikolai somewhere.

“Well, he’s just as bad at listening as you are,” Yakov said, not for the first time.

Nikolai pushed into his field of view to hang up a bridle. Truth be told, Yakov would’ve let him live at the castle for free. He’d spent his life doing his duty both as a foot soldier and in the understaffed, underpaid city guard, and he’d managed to keep Yuri, bastard child of Nikolai’s dead son and a lord’s flighty daughter, alive long enough for him to make it into Yakov’s service, which considering the young man’s talent was also a service to the country. However, offering as much to Nikolai would have been an insult too grave to be forgiven, so Yakov let him to work the stables.

“I’d like to know where that wyrm roves about,” Nikolai said.

“Get a horse, then.”

The implicit question hadn’t been lost on Yakov and he wasn’t worried to take Nikolai wherever he himself still dared to go. He’d probably be decent company, or at least someone to distract him from the urge to give Yuri and Otabek (another) twenty minute lecture about wandering off alone into dangerous and very much forbidden territory.

“Alright.”

By the time Yakov was done saddling and putting the bridle on his thoroughbred mare, Nikolai had readied his own steed, a ponderous horse that looked more suited to pulling carts than being ridden and had to be twenty-five years old at this point, but somehow still did its job.

“Otabek and Yuri are going to show us the way they rode,” Yakov said, after he had pulled himself up into his saddle.

“Are you going to make them fight it?”

They trotted side-by-side through the courtyard.

“No, I don’t plan on running into it at all. If they could, they probably would have fought. You know your grandson.”

“Sure, but isn’t Otabek a bit more reasonable?”

Yakov scoffed.

“He’s good at pretending he is, but I have no doubt if he had a chance to show off in front of Yuri, he’d have taken it. He must have believed the wyrm would take them both out.”

Nikolai rumbled a laugh.

“Wouldn’t it be fun to be that young and proud again?” he mused.

“Gods, no,” Yakov grumbled. “I’d rather keep my common sense.”

The two would-be explorers said waiting on their steeds before the castle gate. The all-black mare Yuri he had chosen as his when he was made a squire two years ago was grazing. He pulled up her head by the reins and eyed his grandfather with surprise. Otabek hung back a few paces as Yuri rode to join them.

“Are you coming, grandpa?”

“After everything you told me, I got curious,” Nikolai said with a shrug.

“It’s dangerous,” Yuri pointed out, his horse blocking Nikolai’s way.

“Just looking at some paw prints should be alright. You two made it back, didn’t you?”

Yuri looked unconvinced, but apparently couldn’t find an argument that wouldn’t insult his grandfather. Yakov wasn’t about to wait until he had come up with one.

“Otabek, lead the way,” he ordered.

The young squire nodded and turned his horse, even as Yuri still tarried. Otabek had just joined Victor’s court a few months ago, but occasional lapses in good judgement such as making inroads into the Wildwoods aside, Yakov had to admit he was a fine knave and would probably earn his title of knight the first time he was unleashed into a real battle. He did not regret taking him in now, even if the impudent King Victor had more or less forced his hand on the issue after he had seen that Yuri had taken a liking to him when he had visited the royal court of Otabek’s homeland, where the young lord’s son had been training. If Otabek looked to use this chance to make a name for himself in the world, then that only meant his ambition matched Yuri’s and having them spur each other on was generally helpful – except, of course, when they decided to act like the young fools that they were and almost get themselves killed.

Behind them, Nikolai turned his horse to pass by his grandson, who still hadn’t gotten out of his way.

“Really, Yuri. I was at the battle of the Black Ford – and a hundred others you don’t even remember.”

“I know...”

Yuri answered in the tone of voice employed by all people who still counted too few summers to honestly believe that relatives who had grey hairs when they were born had ever been young themselves. Intellectually, Yakov assumed the knowledge was there, but instinctively all those old stories seemed to sound like fairy tales to them.

The Nikiforov’s castle towered over the Crown City on the edge of a sloping mountain. Otabek chose the path past the city walls right down into the plains before the city. They dodged farmer’s carts and other riders who were on the way to the city, but then took a sharp turn straight across the meadow towards the Wildwoods, where only rabbits, bugs and birds populated their path. No one had business in the Wildwoods. Of course, that was what you had impertinent teenagers for.

“Couldn’t we just burn this all down?” Yuri asked, peering angrily at the trees in the distance as if they were the ones that had offended him. Yakov knew from experience that Yuri had never dealt with failure or fear very well.

“I reckon the woods are good protection from the Western flank,” Nikolai said. “No army has walked through this forest without losing half their soldiers.”

“But _we_ can’t make it through, either!” Yuri groused.

“Victor’s ancestors have tried clearing the forest before, with fire and knights and whatever else you can think of,” Yakov gave back. “Georgi says the magic protecting the core of the forest is as old as the land. Think of it as a mountain. It’s there and you won’t get it out of the way without way more effort than it’s worth.”

“Tell Georgi to try harder, then.”

“I’m telling Georgi to stay the hell out of the Wildwoods like the rest of you.”

After all, the Wildwoods kept to themselves, more or less. As long as you didn’t wander in, you wouldn’t be eaten by something that had crawled out from the belly of the earth, or from even further down. Yakov certainly wasn’t going to risk the life of the only witch he knew on the off-chance that he could solve a problem that most of the time really wasn’t one.

However, every once in a while something did start brushing the perimeter, like the thing Yuri and Otabek seemed to have found, and they did need to take care of that. He’d probably send Georgi with the knights, though, depending on how otherworldly the wyrm promised to be. Some were more or less just big lizards, others had their own form of magic.

They started threading between tree trunks now, the ground growing softer and more treacherous with gnarled roots while the leaves above them closed in on each other and then formed a roof, shutting out the light until they were moving in gloom despite it being noon.

“What kind of tree is that?” Nikolai asked. Riding by, he had torn a leaf off a low-hanging branch, which he now inspected. Yakov glanced up at the canopy above. It looked like they were beneath some tall, old oaks, but there was something subtly off about the shapes of the ridges of the leaves and now that he was looking closer, he was pretty sure different leaves were growing from the same branches, too.

“A tree that tells me we shouldn’t push much further. How far in did you go in?!” Yakov bellowed to the two young men at the front.

“Not much,” Otabek said, somewhat cowed.

Nikolai flicked the odd leaf Yakov’s way.

“You are harsh on them,” he said quietly.

“I don’t want them to be killed,” Yakov pointed out, disgruntled.

“Yes, but I remember... when we were about, what, five, six years older than these two, we snuck out of the camp at the Redwater against orders from the king and my captain to wander into the Briarwood. How much room to talk do we have?”

Yakov raised his chin.

“We did find enemy scouts.”

“That’s not what we went there for…”

Yakov was still thinking of a suitable answer when his horse suddenly came to an abrupt halt. He held his breath, and in that moment, he heard the shudder in the undergrowth. Without thinking, he grabbed on to Nikolai’s reins, tearing his horse sideways out of the way, where, moments later, the wyrm’s claws buried into the ground.

He heard Yuri and Otabek call out in the front of them. His horse balked at the monster and Yakov held on tightly. Nikolai’s steadfast plough horse somehow outdid Yakov’s trained war steed in that regard, only dancing back a few nervous steps. While Yakov was still getting his mare back under control, Nikolai had already unsheathed the notched iron sword at his belt.

The wyrm was obviously young, about twice the size of a cow, but with considerably larger fangs and claws. What it lacked in size, it gained in speed. Yakov urged his horse out of the way of another lounge.

So much for just taking a look at its stomping grounds. He slid off the back of his horse, which was already making to flee again and wouldn’t be of much use here. With his longsword in hand, he glanced back at Nikolai still on horseback. He’d be the fastest out of them.

“Nikolai, distract that thing!”

Somewhere behind him, Yuri yelled in protest. Yakov shot back around to look at them.

“Otabek, your crossbow! Yuri, ready your lance!”

He knew they hadn’t faced monsters yet, and he’d rather have put it off some more, but there was always going to be a first time. Best if they could keep it off them entirely, though. Nikolai was still doing an admirable job drawing its attention, not just by moving in its field of vision, but also with a deep, bloody gash he had hacked into its paw.

Yakov dodged its tail, though it lashed his shoulder with a painful sting. _Would help to be thirty years younger for this part_ , he thought to himself, annoyed with the sluggishness of his own movements. He drew back, waiting for the monster to turn all the way to Nikolai, and then pushed his sword down with all his might, right into the soft side of the creature.

The wyrm let out a horrible roar and turned on him. Yakov caught the blow of its paw on his shield, feeling all his bones rattle. As he dislodged his sword, blood spurted onto the ground. He raised it for protection from the other paw, but the force was too much, taking him off his feet and toppling him.

There was a sudden thud. As Yakov raised his gaze, he saw Nikolai had thrown himself off his horse and onto the wyrm, which now had a sword stuck in its back, as well as an old man draped over it.

“Yuri!” Nikolai called. “Now! Forward!”

Yakov heard the hasty sound of hooves on the ground and turned. Though white as a sheet, Yuri held the lance steady as he aimed and then rammed it deep into the body of the wyrm. It screeched once more and threw off Nikolai like a sack of potatoes as it turned, directly onto Yakov, who had just managed to sit up. He gave a breathless groan as he sank back under the weight.

As the wyrm raised its head to snap in Yuri’s direction, already out of its mind with pain, a bolt zipped through the air and burrowed into one burning red eye, quickly followed by several more as Yuri and his horse jumped out of the way.

This proved too much for the creature. It collapsed on its side, spitting blood.

Nikolai rolled off Yakov with a pained moan and Yakov clambered awkwardly to his feet and looked down at the twitching creature. It was not moving much now, little enough to approach carefully. He drew his sword across its throat. The movements exploded into a few furious spasms, then stopped entirely.

“No reason to let it suffer,” he explained to Yuri, who sat wide-eyed and blood-spattered on his horse. Yakov turned and offered his hand to Nikolai, who pulled himself up with another exhausted grunt.

Otabek had joined them now, crossbow still in one hand.

“I didn’t know your grandfather was a knight, Yuri,” he said, amazed.

“Just an old guardsman,” Nikolai corrected. “But I’ve dealt with drunks in worse moods than this thing.” Carefully, he pulled his blood-stained sword out of the wyrm’s body and smiled at his grandson. “That was good work.”

“Thank you…”

Yuri was still staring at Nikolai like he’d seen a ghost. Yakov couldn’t completely blame him. It had been quite the show for a man who could barely carry a ball of hay anymore.

“Well, at least this solved the issue, and you two got a bit of practice in,” Yakov said, as he walked to collect his mare, which was waiting a few steps away besides Nikolai’s horse. Grabbing both by the bridle, he pulled them back towards the others.

“We went way further… uh, a little further into the Wildwoods, though,” Yuri stammered.

“The thing might have had your scent,” Yakov guessed. He should have thought of that. Anyway, it was done now.

He shooed a still shell-shocked Yuri and Otabek on to start on their way back to the edge of the forest before he climbed into his saddle.

“I’m going to feel this in the morning,” he muttered to Nikolai, who had also made it back onto his horse.

Nikolai gave a commiserating grin.

“Have to say, though, when I landed on top of you it definitely felt like Briarwood again,” he said quietly. “Wish my back was as good as it was then, though.”

Yakov bit down on a smile.

“Not so loud, or Yuri is going to fall off his horse before we get out of the woods. Save it for tonight.”


End file.
